Startling weightlessness and a pressure of g-force hit the skybound Ancient as they took flight from a generously re-purposed escape pod turned weapon. Sora was clearly a gamblin’ man. The odds of the escape pod actually punching a hole through the rival airships protective barriers were low. If the the enemy ship was so easy to puncture, the Oracle’s air force would have already managed without resorting to sending their commander into battle. Yet, realistically, Sora would have been the only one capable of even attempting the feat; or at the very least the only one capable of surviving a failure. The ability to control time, even by seconds, could adjust his success ratio just a few ticks towards his side; and that be all he needed.
As the wind rushed by in a loud cacophony of violence, the explosions of battle reverberating between the two ships, and the barely audible wails of the enemy as they fell from their ship surrounded Sora; what were his thoughts? Did they pray to something higher? Remember something important to drive their spirit? Either way about it, the Ancient had exactly five seconds of hang-time as he rocketed through the air to give anything a moment’s thought before the force of impacted rattled the escape vessel. First it was a feeling of impacting molasses - everything just came to a sudden, but some how slow, stop. The barrier. Then the twisting of metal, the cockpit groaning in protest to the sudden strain on its exterior before a crunching sound. Then the g-force would hit Sora again suddenly, from stopped right back to original speed in a single second.
Another impact in about half that time rattled the brave gambler inside of his tin can as the escape pod miraculously punched right through the ship.
[Roll 4 vs 4]
…and the gamble paid off.
The hatch of Sora’s insane plan popped off with a hiss of released air to engulf the man in the acrid smells of burning. Burning metal, burning flesh, burning hair;
burning. A precursory glance upon exiting would reveal two painstakingly obvious things. The first was that the ship he had punched into was not layered as friendly as his own inventions. A single look towards the hole would reveal crew members who had been struck by his escape pod - some clearly dead, some trying to scramble their way back into safety. The second item to be quickly noticed was indeed the bomb itself. It was a person.
The man, clearly a poor captured Nomad, was hovering spread-eagle in the large cargo bay. Most of their flesh was revealed to the open air of the skies with black marks skittering all across their skin. A quick glance would find the marks coming from not one, not two, but three different Cursed Seals that all seemed to be contending with one or the other to control the user’s body. This locked the man into a twisted form of endless agony, their pain accelerating the production of chakra within that was being trapped inside of him via a very intricate paper seal placed on his forehead; it flapped dangerously as cross winds from the airship’s wound threatened to tear it away. The bombed shaped aura the Hyuuga had saw was this man’s built up, barely contained chakra, ready to explode. The Sennin was standing inside of it. So far his presence, nor the presence of the hole quickly destabilizing the enemy ship’s poor infrastructure had disturbed the delicate balance of what was keeping the tormented man from setting of a chakra bomb the likes of which had never been seen before. It was also noted that standing within the man’s aura seemed to allow Sora to ignore the vacuum effects of his explosive entrance.
As the Sennin was comptiplating how to disarm such a ridiculous ninjutsu, a small voice on his chest would speak up,
“
Ah, well this is a fine pickle now isn’t it?”
A golden scarab, about the size of a thumbnail, dispelled a jutsu that revealed it with a gentle puff of chakra steam. Despite the size, the words it spoke carried up through the air with acute accuracy.
“
My lord would like to first offer an apology. Master Sousuke wished me to keep to you at all times, and reveal to you in full his emergency plan in a contingency such as this. Normally I am not an insect who conducts subterfuge,” the chittering of the beetle, somehow, felt posh, “
However, nor can I turn down the great Steward without staining my honor! So, with much trepidation, I disguised myself and hid amongst your clothing. It is time I reveal Project Sandworm.”
To Sora the golden scarab chittered Sousuke and Akkuma’s mad plan. The entire base plate Suna was housed upon that lifted it above the Underground had been fortified and underwent such modification that it could be lowered back underground. Once lowered onto a set of train tracks the entire village would be covered with an steel dome that would then begin to move the village back underground through a series of old sandworm tunnels. This was a contingency plan to protect the village against two antagonists who were more likely to blow up what they couldn’t have; especially ones capable of creating such a grotesque explosive.
“
The only problem he came across, is that lowering the village will take time. A full ten minutes. Unsure of how the coming battle would come to a head, and that most shinobi can finish a fight in less than three minutes, it became a stop-gap in lord Sousuke’s plan. Hence, I was sent to tell you this plan in hope that you could find away to keep the enemy from dropping this, eh, ‘bomb’, on our dear village. And make no mistake, whatever the sealed ninjutsu is, an explosion of this size would take out the village and everything in the above airspace! My wings crinkle just sitting within it’s aura! Might…might get ourselves checked for radiation poisoning after all this is said and done.
“
Either way, I leave it to you! I will report to Sousuke to start the process! We have faith you will make the right choice!”
The insect’s legs released Sora’s clothing, dropping it to the ground so that it could crawl out of the bubble before breaking the summoning jutsu and returning to their homeland. Sora had his work cut out. Not only was he facing down a bomb of incredible porportions, a bit of shouting had started during the conversation with Sousuke’s summon, and a quick glance up would reveal a small group of soldiers equipping grappling gear to sling themselves down into the bay hanger after the Sennin. The horizon in the corner of his eye would tell the Ancient the ship’s altitude was also quickly descending. It would be a matter of mere minutes at this rate before the ship collided with Suna proper…
==========================================================
The smell of burning fruit, death, and drying blood wafted through the streets as the 12th Kazekage and Sennin faced down each other. Grains of gold skittered from all around the village to form a monstrous Sandworm as the protector of Suna stood on his flying cloud to face down an unlikely traitor. Why had Shin come back now? Tuned to such acts of terror that would have made his previous self cry with shame, the Kazekage had ended the lives of innocents. Yet, in that moment before the two would clash, a jolt of sense would return to the altered leader - the cure for the madness. It flowed through his veins like icy fire, culling out the bits of spore that retained their shape and stuck to the walls of his veins. Like culling a cancer with radiation, the poison was being burned out by the cure synthesized from the melons. Could it be fast enough to do anything to save the village from another Kage-level rumble? How much war could Suna itself survive when the original plan had been plotted to be a mostly bloodless coup? The Baron Twins had seen through the rebellion’s treachery, always somehow one step ahead; and with Shin they had thought to have an ace up their sleeve.
[14 vs 20]
Despite the tickle in the back of his mind, a voice kicking out at the previous Kazekage to desist, to hold back their hand from striking down a capable man they had hosted into such a precious position…but it was just that; a small voice. Easily drowned out by the screams calling from above and around. The roaring fire. The explosions echoing from combat in the skies. There was only the order - kill everyone - echoing within the mind of the 12th, while he stepped up to face down one of the greatest terrors the golden dunes had managed to produce.
Yet, for Akkuma, facing against Shin wasn’t the only thing he had on his plate. Down there among the corpses of his team laid two things of importance. The first, the same syringe that the late Chief had stabbed into Shin’s neck containing the first synthesis to cure the spore’s madness. The second was a bloodied parchment clutched in the same person’s hand, barely noticeable beyond the crimson red that stained everything else round her. No doubt it was the chicken-scratch of math formulated to create the first step of curing Wei’s poison. Something Akkuma could quickly finish if he could only get past Shin…
Another explosion roared above them as Sora punched into the enemy’s ship, causing it to tilt down and begin a descent upon Suna. Akkuma knew of Project Sandworm, and the sudden realization that 10 minutes would be far too long to lower the city with such a large contraption falling down; even without the knowledge of the bomb tied to it. He would have to make some very quick, very astute choices if he planned to live up to the oath sworn to protect the desert’s jewel.
===========================================================
Michino’s left eye opened. Sitting up he looked around and found himself once again in a sea of black. There was nothing. The space he sat felt like something and not at the same time. Floating freely without a sense of gravity and yet, he knew where ‘down’, was. Holding his hand up the remaining eye could only just that, but he could see it perfectly. It felt like Hyou’s Jungle again. A lonely black abyss with only humidity, insects, and the every prowling presence of a death god slinking closer and closer. Unlike his god’s home, though, where he was now was nothing. A void. Deprived of every natural state except a general sense of touch and some sight. There were no smells, no heat, no cold; no sign that anything was alive anywhere near him.
Limbo…it had to be. A place between Life and Death where souls would sometimes get caught on their way out. Which Michino immediately recognized as strange. His contract with the death god clearly stated that when he died, there would be exactly none of this. He was to be taken directly to Hyou’s realm where the prophet would then take over the death panther’s role in seeing to those who went to their side of purgatory. He would become the next Hyou, and the previous would enter the Cycle of Rebirth to be born back into the Toraono clan once more. Yet…nothing. There was nothing here. Gathering his feet underneath him, the 13th Kazekage stood up. If he could not see then he wondered, how far could he walk?
The moment he had righted himself completely he was in an arena. Ruins of a time lost to humanity revealed themselves suddenly to the shinobi; empty, and falling apart. It only took Michino a full spin to gaze at his new location to know that this was the old Arena of Ancients - a place where those under the boot of the elemental race came to die. How, he knew that, escaped him until his full turn stopped with the sight of the Ancient he had slain. Except, he was seated before the Toraono in a chair made of human bone and his flesh was not aflame. Save for his glowing orange eyes, the creature appeared in the guise of a man, with cracks in his skin that showed his molten blood beneath. The Ancient gestured at the 13th to take a seat, and the Sunan leader suddenly found himself in another chair of bone, sitting directly across from Fen’ning.
“
Welcome to my humble abode, lord Kazekage,” Michino found he could not part his lips to speak, but could still breathe. The sensation was, needless to say, uncomfortable. “
Congratulations are in order first! The first mortal to ever lay me low, a feat that not even Primus was capable of. Beat me within an inch of my existence, sure, but kill me? Such a feat was thought impossible unless we were consumed by another of our kind.
“
Ancients always enter the Cycle of Rebirth upon our death, and unlike most, retain every last bit of our previous personality and memories. We are immortal, in a sense, and the more powerful among us can come back in mere days! Yet, you…you, have managed to break a natural law in order to defeat me. The powers of death’s flame were yours to command, and with it you erased all but the most intimate parts of my existence from The River…all I have left of myself is what you see here.” The Ancient stood up from his chair and walked over to Michino, reaching over to grab the back of his throne and spin it. In doing so the scene changed from the arena, to overlooking a Wind Country that had once existed. Trees for as far as the eye could see stretched out into horizon, broken up only by the towering golden pyramids built in honor of the gods that once ruled that land.
“
We had everything in this world, you know. Nothing could stop us. Not the Kami, the Youkai, or even the Dragons. It was man, that brought this all low. The death of the Deep Court’s leader and the Earth’s greatest scholar caused an uproar among the other Courts that sought to bring humanity back to heel. Low. The Flame Courts were tasked with a simple command from the Solar - raze it all to the ground. Ancients don’t need the life of the forest to live, but humans do. Chosen to lead those who would squash the human rebellion, I did my best. I killed thousands. Destroyed hundreds of settlements. All that remained of humanity was the weakest of slaves…until Primus rose from those ashes…
“
That was my greatest mistake, little kage. I killed too many, too fast, and pushed humanity into a corner like I was told instead of simply making a show of a few thousand,” his hand gripped the throne of bone Michino could not rise from, “
…and I will not make that mistake twice. I will curse you, Toraono Michino. With every last ounce of my remaining strength I place upon you the Mark of the Flame Courts, what you people call a Cursed Seal, that will slowly burn you inside and out until all that remains is a smoldering corpse. Every time you seek to sate your hunger or thirst it will activate and burn you. Every time you try to mold chakra, I will remind you of your hubris in believing you could strike down a god-”
A soft chuckle that quickly built into roaring laughter, interrupted the monologuing Ancient, coming from the man frozen in his own psyche. Even though his face turned straight forward, his lips unmoving, laughter echoed throughout the Ancient’s faux arena. Why was he laughing? Did he not know the torment that was coming for the mortal? To spend the rest of his days slowly dying from a cancerous death made from fire? Michino’s head tilted back with sheer willpower to look up at the gladiator who assumed to threaten his life. His lips parted, and through his god, Michino spoke. The icy power of death echoed from within his body though he did not move his tongue to speak.
“
Curse? You think to curse me? Hah! I, thrive, on curses little candle flame! My existence is a curse! My soul has been corrupted already, marked already by the death god of my people! Do you Ancients truly believe yourselves to be equal to an actual god?”
Purple flames exploded from the chair that had trapped the kazekage, two ethereal claws rending it apart causing the bones to float around the defiant Toraono. He turned slowly to face Fen, reached out, and grabbed the Ancient by his throat. To Fen’ning, it wasn’t a human hand that now crushed what remained of his will, but a panther’s jaws as the image of Hyou manifested behind the 13th.
“
I accept it. Curse me. Breath your last to damn my name to whatever your kind considers hell.” Michino’s voice came through harder, shouting now as he regained control of his body, “
The Youkai could not bring me low, the harshest parts of the desert my training grounds! The Ryuu could not shame my bloodline! I stand proud as the inheritor of my people’s hopes and dreams! Cursed, to walk from here to my end in defense of a village that once sought my death! Do it! Curse! Me! I am an abomination of curses, created from this life I walk! I do not fear another chip on the pile!”
The grip on Fen’s throat tightened. How? How was a single mortal’s will so powerful to defy not only the Courts themselves, but to defy even death? How could he not balk at such suffering? The shadows of endless void began to darken the Ancient’s vision. He had only moments to seal in Michino’s punishment but his will was already faltering. The gladiator had only felt this kind of fear once in his entire life…and that was facing down a certain mortal along side Fuu…
“
P-Primus…?”
"
Toraono," Michino growled before tightening his grip until there was a firm snap.
The Flame Court Ancient’s power shook, breaking the world back down into a void save the swirling red energy of elemental strength. It flowed in the shape of a humanoid before shattering, converging into a cloud, and striking Michino’s chest. All of that old power poured itself into the Toraono’s soul, burning him even here in Limbo, but not a scream of pain or a moment show of weakness crossed his features. Once it had entered him in its entirety, the prophet placed his hand against the spot, as if to staunch a wound, and when he pulled it away smoke chased after his fingers. Upon his chest was a blackened wound shaped into an intricate circle surrounded by smaller circles with waves of flame stretching from the center.
Michino’s eyes shot open again, a pill lodged in his throat as Ryota attempted to pour water into his mouth. A medical clone was pouring life-manipulating energy into his body but, even as they did so the 13th’s color returned far faster than simple healing could have mustered. The pill hit his stomach and immediately went to work, replacing the blood he had lost with such a rapid force it almost knocked him out again. Once his blurred world resettled he found that he could see now clearer than he had ever could before. He held up his hands, and beheld the raw power of the Ancient’s chakra roaring through his body trying to eat him alive; yet it did little more than make him feel warmer than usual. He turned to look at Ryota, seeing his little brother covered in blood of his enemies and knew he had been a fool to think they could simply remove Wei in a bloodless coup.
“
I am sorry, little brother,” Michino said with sincere worry. He had not meant to expose the youth to even more evil and death than he had already, but, realized that just as he had before…Ryota also walked a cursed path. What wasn’t clear to the Kazekage at that time was his eyes. The right eye that had been gouged out by blade had returned though the painful scar left there remained; and both purple irises were sheathed in the tell-tale pattern of the Uchiha’s strongest form of Dojutsu: the Mangekyou Sharingan. It gently receded, spinning backwards into three tomoe and then a simple pupil once more. A headache struck him then, a pain in his eyes that throbbed - especially on the right - but he pushed through it. They had to finish this once and for all, and drag Wei from his throne to rebuilt everything the despot had destroyed.
He had to protect them.
Standing up he held a hand out for Ryota to take to help them meet his stance and turned towards what remained of the mostly frozen, falling apart Kazekage Tower.
“
Lets finish this, brother,” he spoke in a low growl before stalking towards the home of his enemy. Gentle wisps of purple flame followed in his wake…
============================================================
“
You will be my greatest creation. A useful cog in the gears of change…”
The face was blurry. Wei was laying on a steel table, looking up at someone. All he could see was a demonic smile, and then laughter. Who was he?
Chikamatsu Wei grew up in the clan of flowers and illusions as an ignored child. His father died fighting a rogue Nomadic tribe that had attempted to join the Cabal’s cause long after that group of villains had been either turned or slain. His mother remained ever bitter at the shinobi system, seeing it as the fault for her husband’s death instead of taking pride he fell in battle to preserve the peace she took for granted. They were members of one of the most prestigious clans in Sunagakure; literally one of five that rose with the Sunahoshi. She attempted to plead with not only the government, but all of the nobles, their respective clans, and anyone who would listen. Begging them to remove the Sunahoshi from the Iron Throne. To replace any and all of the warmongering clans with peaceful ones that would turn Suna from a village of war to another trade village full of hope and cheer like Sora or Soon. No one listened. Her clan ostracized both the woman and child. They were little more than homeless beggers living in the streets of Soon when it was all said and done.
“
I will name you Wei, a child of the Chikamatsu clan…you will take over the Kazekage as a Steward…”
Wei couldn’t remember much of his life, but two things stuck out in his mind like thorns. His mother had been treated unfairly, and they had both died. In Soon. On the streets and at the hands of a drunk. He could still clearly remember the cold bite of steel slicing open his throat. The pleading screams of his mother; and their sudden stop. The black of the void that he drifted endlessly through until a pale hand reached into its depths and grabbed him by the back of his neck.
“
…using this old history it will be easy to insert you into power. From there, you will incite a war…”
“
With the Nomads.”
“
It would be better…Konoha…Kumo…but your the leader here. War is war, and Suna is not prepared…”
Then one day, he was alive again. His memories of how and why were fuzzy, at best, and throughout the short reign over Sunagakure it was the one thing that really haunted him. He drank, ran away, buried his face into bosoms of women forced to do his bidding. Nothing comforted that aching realization. That knowledge in the back of his mind that he wasn’t real at all. This entire thing was a charade, and it had to come crushing down. It was the only way a hero could step up and take over the mantle that Wei was wielding like a flamethrower; but he didn’t want to die, again.
“
Shin…technology…was a major medical advancement but I have to wonder - did he ever think…used against…seemed short-sited. Oh well, in the end I will have…total control over…country…”
[10 vs 7]
A cold burst of ice plunged into his chest. Not against, through. He felt the Tsurara’s hand rip past his flesh instead of the woman balking at his sudden presence. The terrible cold of frozen ice creeping through his veins to cause a pain that burned harder than his first death. Wei’s mouth opened to scream, but his throat had already frozen shut and his tongue was numb. Tendril filled arms and hands moved to grab at her, but that all began to stiffen as the ice spread from his chest and outwards. Even as they started to converge, Tsukiya’s blades cut them from the beast, dropping them to the ground.
Wei pulled back, violently ripping himself away from the woman he had tried so hard to see an end to before this day came. The mysterious voice always guiding his actions in the background. The pale scarred face that constantly shifted in his memories so he had no idea who was his real master, had said he foresaw a future where Moriko was the one who would kill him again - if he allowed it. He threw all of the government’s money at two things: the war with the Nomads at the behest of the Oil Barons, and killing Tsuara Moriko. Now he wondered if his creator had set him up in a trap, knowing that the fury of the blue-haired woman would be far more than Wei was able to handle. Even with a special “combat switch,” built into his body to make him immortal…
Wei’s heavy form landed back into the middle of the room, cleared now by the tantrum involved with his self-image. His left leg, frozen, shattered once he landed and the sad beast moaned a low bellow of pain. A death knell. The beast was dying, with the relentless attacks of Moriko and her lover bringing him low. Half-coagulated blood oozed from the stump where his leg had been, and tendrils tried to slip out of the wound to create a pseduo appendage, a heart thumping within the binded tendrils. It was immediately cut in half. Wei looked up with eyes that begged for mercy, knowing full well he wouldn’t get any. He was a sacrificial lamb. Already dead, and brought back so he could die for another’s cause. Worse of all? Wei had no idea who or what he was dying for. Had he not been useful?
The ice had spread all across his torso now, freezing his main body solid. Thoughts had slowed to a crawl. Darkness blurred his vision and he stared silently at the woman who had brought him to his knees; an image that was quickly replaced now by a mirror that showed him what he looked like in death. A monster. Beaten and brought down for the sake of the living world. His mouth opened to scream one last time, but again, his frozen throat and now tongue could produce no sound as the last of his chakra guttered out, and the ice covered his entire body before shattering.
The nightmare was over. Chikamatsu Wei was dead.
An explosion outside and above would alert the couple to the dangers that were still happening outside. One look in the sky would see an airship careening now towards their home, a sandworm in the distance near the Bazaar with Akkuma riding before it, and Michino walking towards them with intent in his eyes. The Kazekage leaped from the ground in a small explosion to propel himself up, and in through a hole in the side of the dome created by the initial attack of the Flame Ancient. There was a certain edge to the man who stepped into the same room now, something that had not been there before. That peaceful man who proclaimed himself as their leader looked like he had aged into a leader who now understood when and where to show mercy. His purple eyes looked down at the pieces of Wei and simply nodded.
“
Good to see that problem has been weeded out. If you still have the energy, I could use your assistance. It appears that we will need to return underground and strike at our enemies from the shadow once more. We’ll be dropping the village down on tracks that will lead us away from this combat and away from the Baron’s hands until we can muster a full counterattack, but, dropping the entire city will take at least ten minutes…and I don’t think we have ten minutes…” his purple eyes turned away from the chunks of frozen flesh to look at Moriko directly, “
If someone was supplying you with chakra, do you believe you could create a protective dome of ice?”
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